


Replacement

by underground_archivist



Category: Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-17
Updated: 2013-05-25
Packaged: 2020-07-30 16:10:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 16,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20099971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/underground_archivist/pseuds/underground_archivist
Summary: With an alternate ending to Labyrinth, Sarah takes the place of Toby and is herself turned into a Fae -- and lives, happily or unhappily, in the Goblin City for ten years. Until she becomes part of a twisted plot.-- Rating for violence and a bit of romance, nothing lemony though --





	1. Prologue - Where it Ended and Began

**Author's Note:**

> Note from banshee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Underground](https://fanlore.org/wiki/Underground_\(Labyrinth_archive\)) and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2019. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Underground’s collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/underground/profile).

  
Author's notes: ~Thank you for reading! I'll try to post a chapter at least every other day, unless I have an emergency or something that keeps me from the computer. Hope you enjoy reading it, as I love writing it!~  


* * *

“Give me the child.” Sarah Williams spoke in a voice rather dream-like – the voice of a child herself, thinking she could vanquish the most powerful being in creation by reciting a few lines she deemed magical.

“Sarah.” Came the drawling voice of Jareth, King of the Underground. He tried to persuade her to stay, for he knew not her true character. The child, Toby, was lively and would make an excellent fae, but…

“I have beaten the Labyrinth, and my Kingdom is great. You have no power over me.” She commanded, certain that this would work. She had done it! She had remembered her lines, and she would wake up at home with her baby brother.

The Goblin King sighed an agonized sigh. “I will take you home.” He said finally. He had lost.

“And Toby?” asked the brunette girl, triumph filling her emerald eyes.

Jareth’s lips came up into a smile – “He remains here. What’s said is said.” He reminded her.

Sarah stamped her foot. “That’s not fair! I beat your Labyrinth! I said my lines!”

A short laugh came from the twisted mouth of the Goblin King. “Sarah. Do you really think your little fantasies will come into play here? This is my Kingdom, and the rules are mine. You did not think you would escape my Labyrinth with the double prize, did you?”

Sarah stood speechless.

“You have your choice, here, now.” Said Jareth, again trying to persuade her. “You may either send your brother home, or go yourself. I begged you to stay, to fear me, love me. Will you reconsider?”

An agonizing moment stood still with time. Sarah’s heart tore within her, knowing there was no way to get around this magic. After a moment, remembering her brother, what life he had before him, she nodded, tears filling her eyes. “I will stay.” She whispered, determined within herself she would not give Jareth the satisfaction of knowing she was pained. “Send Toby home.”

Jareth smiled. He had his prize. A snap of his thin, pale fingers, and the boy was home, asleep in his crib. My, wouldn’t his parents be surprised. “An excellent choice, precious.” He said in his low, purring voice, stepping closer to the girl. It was hard to remember she was so young… but that mattered not now. She would remain sixteen forever, as a Fae, in his Kingdom. As his queen. “You will make a fine queen.” He whispered, stepping closer now.

But at that, Sarah stepped back as though she’d been struck. “No!” she cried, repelled. “No!” she shouted again. This time, her will would win. “That wasn’t my agreement. I will stay. But not with you, not in your castle!” she shouted at him. “Take me anywhere but, and leave me alone!” 

This wasn’t fair, in either of their minds.

The smile of the Goblin King turned to a look of distaste, and anger, as a spoiled child denied a toy. “As you wish!” he spat at her, gripping her roughly by a slender wrist and swirling. In a moment they were within a city, quiet in the crystal moonlight.

Jareth pulled her roughly to a door. “So young, so foolish.” He said, releasing her from his grasp. “It is no castle, but I am sure you prefer it that way. Such a pity.” He growled, raising the doorknocker and letting it fall once.

In a moment, a moment filled with agonizing silence, a sleepy-eyed, golden haired woman opened the door. “Your majesty!” she cried, bowing low. He acknowledged this with a nod and pushed Sarah forward. “This is a Fae orphan, I require you to take her in.” he said, and before either the woman or Sarah could say anything, he was gone in a cloud of glitter.

The fae woman stood in amazement and pulled Sarah into the house. Sarah shivered, almost at the point of tears from exhaustion and shock. The woman saw this and was kind. “Poor dear.” She muttered, preparing a bed in the guest room. “You can tell me your story when you’ve rested, dear.” She said. Sarah could only nod. What was her story? It was becoming hard to remember anything. “All my children are grown now, and gone off.” The woman explained, now leading her charge to the room. “And my husband died in the Goblin-Troll war.. oh, some few thousand years back”. She tried to remember, sighing with a bit of pleasant nostalgia. “So it’ll just be you and me now. But it’s okay. We’ll get along.” She was incredibly reassuring, and Sarah now could freely cry. The woman was being so generous! She hadn’t even thought to refuse the king, but it didn’t seem that she wanted to.

Sarah fell asleep through her tears, with the golden haired woman stroking her shoulder; full of hatred and regret.


	2. An Invitation [Sarah]

Ten years had passed from the 13 hour sprint that had brought Sarah to her new life.

She now worked as a seamstress, as her “mother” did. Her mother, as she was considered, was named Ambrosine, and owned one of the most fashionable and highly trafficked dress shops in the Goblin City. In ten years Ambrosine, or Amby as she was commonly called, had managed to teach her adopted daughter very well.

“The purple number with diamond inlay is just sold, Am.” Sarah called to the back of the shop, where Ambrosine sat with a mouthful of pins over a worktable. She hummed and nodded her pleasure and continued on. Turning back to the front, Sarah saw a new customer walk in. A man, tall, brunette, with an easy grin and twinkling eyes.

“Can I help you?” Sarah asked in her most friendly manner, the one that always got customers to purchase more than they had originally planned.

“You may try.” The man said with a laugh, motioning her over to a table covered with fine, white shirts, the kind meant for men to wear to fine occasions. Sarah came and stood by him, nodding. “You wish to purchase a shirt?”

“For the ball.” He said. “Goblin post is so unpredictable,” he complained, “My invitation was delayed. I now have three days to procure an outfit and a guest.” He sighed, ruffling through the selection on the table. Sarah had no idea which ball he spoke of, but tried her best to help him. “I’ll just grab a measure, if you don’t mind.” She said, walking quickly to grab their chart and tape to use on the customer.

Fifteen minutes later, and the man was measured, and the two were fast friends. As they looked through every bit of clothing from shirts to stockings, they found how many interests they shared, and how easy the other was to talk to.

“Well,” said the Fae man lazily, as Sarah wrapped his purchases, “I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed shopping until this day.”

Sarah laughed at him. “I’m glad I could help. I hope you have fun at this ball or what have you.”

“Ah yes!” he proclaimed in mock grandeur, “For I just adore dressing up and polishing my manners just to appear normal in the high crowd! Highlight of my every thirteen years!” At this Sarah stared at him in confusion. “Thirteen years?” she asked curiously.

“Yes.” The man answered in an almost equally confused state. “This is the thirteenth-year annual ball. Didn’t you know?”

“No.” said Sarah sweetly, “I don’t even know what that is, much less when.”

“How old are you?” asked the Fae man incredulously, “I wouldn’t have put you under three-hundred!”

Sarah felt a blush rise to her face. “Twenty-six.” She said softly.

The man stared in wonder. “My. So young. So very young. You don’t look it, not one bit. But how can, then, you not know about the thirteenth-year ball?”

“I’ve only lived here ten years.” Sarah clumsily rushed to explain, “I was adopted by Amby, but before, I was a mortal.”

At this, the man’s mouth completely dropped open.

Words failed both for a few moments.

“A… a mortal?” said he at last. “From… from Aboveground? Impossible.”

“No, just improbable.” Said Sarah, with her face blazing and looking at the ground. She felt inferior. She’d never actually mentioned her origins to anyone else – but they’d never come up. She’d never sought friends, and none had sought her, and customers wouldn’t ordinarily socialize. Those people she did know just took it for granted that her parents had been drunkards or dead and didn’t mention them out of sensitivity.

Again, silence descended on the pair.

“Well.” Said the man after a much longer pause than the first, “The Ball is a great celebration of the Underground, given once every thirteen years. Fae from all over the Underground are invited, and it is really considered –the- event, don’t you know.”

Sarah looked up and nodded, encouraged by his friendly tone.

As the man at last counted out his gold and placed it on the counter, Sarah smiled again at him. He returned this with lightning speed, and spoke; “Say – I have an idea. Why don’t you come along with me?” he asked, taking his package.

“Come with you!” Sarah nearly shouted, this time taking her turn to be amazed.

“Yes!” the man laughed outright, “As my date. Three days from now. Won’t you?”

Hesitation fluttering in Sarah’s breast quickly fell under the curiosity and slight affection that came trampling over it. “Well, if you really mean it. Of course.” She replied, a shy smile lighting up her pale face, emerald eyes shining radiantly.

“Course I do.” He replied with a wave of his hand. “I’ll tell you what – I’ll pick you up here at the shop three days from today, just before sundown. Sound acceptable?”

“Perfect.” Sarah agreed with a grin. Her first date!

The man laughed again, and turned to leave the store.

“Wait!” Sarah called, almost laughing, as she extended her hand. “I don’t know your name yet!”

“Damien!” called the brunette Fae, turning in the doorway. “And yourself?”

“Sarah.” She replied. This had been a good day.


	3. A Threat [Jareth]

10 years had passed from the thirteen-hour hell that still haunted Jareth’s dreams.

The Goblin King did everything in his power to continue on as if she hadn’t shattered him. As if what that foolish mortal did didn’t affect him. He did his paperwork. He kicked his subjects around. He sat on his throne and tried his best to run his economy. He planned the stupid thirteenth-year annual ball, as he had done countless times in his ageless life.

“Sire.” Came the croaking voice of a messenger goblin. 

“Yes, yes, what is it?” Jareth asked impatiently, looking up from his throne where he’d been lounging in thought of the last ball he’d attended, ten years prior. 

“A message from your Council.” Said the goblin, dropping the tray of mail and rushing off.

Jareth sighed. The Council was always bugging him about something or other, such as making life-altering decisions for his land. Bother bother bother.

Pale, thin fingers roughly tore open the gold-embossed envelope.   


High King Jareth, Goblin King, His Majesty, etc.

A matter of importance to Your Majesty has come to our grieved attention. This matter is of a sensitive nature and of the utmost importance and discretion. We, the Council of his Highness, do humbly request an interview which we have taken the privilege of scheduling for this afternoon, straight after His Majesty’s noon meal. We look forward to the pleasure of speaking with Your Highness.

With all sincerity and honor,  
His Majesty’s Council;  
Mssrs., Lords, Cyril, Augustus, Matthias, and Madames, Ladies, Medea and Cecelia

Jareth sighed. Not only did his advisors like to play the game of hiding behind words, but they also seemed to enjoy interrupting him on days when he’d really rather not be interrupted. It just so happened that that afternoon he had planned a meeting with a small group of Wizards who specialized in decorating with magic. Being the King, Jareth of course could use magic, but no other Fae had that power but one of Royal Blood. Therefore Witches and Wizards, when one could find them, were very useful indeed. 

But what must be done must be done, and there was no saying no to the council. Jareth stalked off in a dark mood to his noon meal, trying to linger as long as he could.

\-------------

“Your Highness!” the five members of his Council all cried at once, each bowing low in unison.

Jareth sighed and ran a hand over his face and through his spiky blonde hair. “Yes, let us proceed and be done.” He beseeched, lowering himself into a chair, quickly abandoning the straight posture it suggested for a lounging position.

“A matter of utmost importance has reached our ears, sir, one of rather a sensitive nature.” Started Lord Cyril.

“I am all ears, impatient ears at that.” Jareth said, growling with threat.

Lady Medea, always the Goblin King’s favorite, took note of the all-too-familiar situation and spoke up. “As you know, My King, threats come into this castle every day. Goblins unhappy for odd reasons, Goblins unhappy for legitimate reasons, even Fae unhappy at some points, because they’ve hit a bad stroke of luck. Some folk just insane.” She paused. Had they told him of this before?

Jareth grew more impatient with the interruption of her words, “Yes, low level threats that come in and are extinguished, yes, continue please.” Although he could scarcely grow too upset, as Medea had a much easier voice on his impatient ears and was always easy to work with – easy compared to the other four.

Medea continued with haste, “Lord, these low-level threats have been escalating. The security team we have in place have a code for them – levels one through five. Five being a dagger at your neck, one being a quickly recognized low-threat poison.”

Jareth nodded, hand still over his pointed face.

“Your Security does not alert us, the council, but once a month, with a full report of threats. But they felt the need to notify us yesterday, sir. For in one week they have had over twenty level-one security alerts, eight level-two’s, and even one level-four.”

“A level four?” Jareth broke in, surprised.

“Did you take into notice how surprisingly dusty your throne room was this morning, Majesty, King?” asked Matthias. 

“No.” said Jareth shortly, but even as he said it he looked down at his skin-tight gray pants – they were dusty. How had he let them become dusty?

“Sire, the ceiling of your Throne Room caved in yesterday evening, just moments after you’d retired.” Medea spoke up again. It had since been rebuilt quickly, but the cleanup was progressing slowly.

Jareth was silent.

As was his council.

At last, the Goblin King spoke up. “Well, what is your advising today? I would advise you to step up the security team, but goodness knows, if that is too difficult-“

“Sire.” Broke in Augustus, the snobbiest of the Council and the only one besides Medea who dared interrupt the King, “Rest assured that your Security Team was, before this incident even, the Highest we thought there could be. Very terribly efficient. Since then we have brought in ten more highly trained and brave Fae. But what was before, really could not be improved upon. Apparently there is an enemy somewhere who is very cunning.”

Silence descended again.

At last, Jareth pushed back his chair with a scraping of wood against the tile floor. “Well, I’ll take care to watch the ceiling and get a food-taster or whatnot, if that’ll please you. See to it that I am not disturbed again by these matters.” He warned. “And by that I mean, see to it that they stop. I rather value my life.” He sneered. And in an instant, he was gone.

“You didn’t tell him about the Goblin.” Said Cyril at last.

“We didn’t have time.” Answered Medea. 

For that morning, a Goblin in the kitchens had been found dead, tasting the King’s food. 


	4. Ball [Sarah]

Sarah knew time was alterable – she tried not to think about that day, those thirteen hours of confusion, but sometimes they came back to her without her consent. On days like today, she would ponder the question, _is he doing this just to mess with me? Does he know I want time to move normally, is he slowing it? _She knew this was highly improbable, but some days the snail’s pace of time seemed only accountable to the evils of the Goblin King.

But, at last, crimson and violet smudges framed the tall Western mountains; Sarah was dressed from hair to toes in the finest she and Ambrosine could find in the three days. And as they owned a dress shop, few could compare. Sarah’s natural beauty helped, of course.

The dress was a pale blue, almost white, but hinting of the ocean in its teal undertones. It cascaded to the floor in frothy waves, looking light enough to float away at any moment. The shoulders were scalloped of pure, blinding white, running off of the shoulders and swooping down to the elbows, crests on the waves that was her image. Her pale skin, now even more glowing with her Fae blood, blended with the outfit until one almost forgot she was not some sort of mermaid, a mermaid with eyes the color of jade and lips the color of the pink sunset.

“My darling, you are truly a vision.” Said Damien, as he walked to the door and reached for her arm. Ambrosine waved with the happiness only a mother could have seeing her daughter escorted to the Ball, the Highest sort of gathering one could find in all of the Underground.

Sarah blushed at her escort’s comment, smiling at the ground. “Thank you for inviting me, Damien. It truly is a joy.” She’d practiced an incredible amount of gracious thanks, over the past three days. Damien smiled and let out a small chuckle. “I believe the thanks is mine. For now I have the honor of bringing the most beautiful Fae in all Underground to the ball which I’m sure would otherwise have been painfully dull.” Before Sarah could respond, he took a shimmering brown curl between his fingers that were not holding her elbow. “Is it a magic of mortals?” he mused in a much lower voice.

To her surprise, Sarah drew away from him with a bit of haste. Both pretended not to notice this, and continued their walk. But this action annoyed her. Why would she draw away? Would he have kissed her? Would she have liked it? She felt certain she would have – Damien was all sweetness and fun, gracious to talk to but open. She felt as if they were bosom companions, although they’d only known each other four days.

But her confusion was cut short as they reached the castle doors – the great panels of oak and iron loomed above even Damien’s head, intimidating. Sarah felt a flutter in her gut – she hadn’t even thought about where the ball was taking place. All she’d thought about was being with Damien, and she was now, but she’d pulled away, why had she pulled away… and now they were _here_, here at the Goblin Castle in the middle of the city, the castle. Where _he _lived. Where she’d run around and up and down stairs and jumped… she’d jumped, and…

“Sarah, my dear, are you alright?” Damien asked, just as they were escorted inside.

“Yes, I’m fine.” Sarah lied, raising her hand to brush her hair away from her face where it’d fallen when she’d lowered her head. “Why, what’s wrong?”

“You look almost ready to faint.” He smiled, patting her hand. She looked down and saw that her hands were indeed pale. She hadn’t been ready for the memories. Those last few moments, on the stairs, had been the worst in her life. She didn’t want to relive them.

But there were no mystic passageways to be seen in the castle that night. Damien and Sarah walked through a grand opening hall, and into the ballroom.

It was the biggest place Sarah’d ever seen, with ceilings she had to almost break her neck to see. The whole place dazzled so it was difficult to adjust her eyes to the light, reflecting off of all the gold and polished mahogany. And crystal, and diamond. Anything that would catch light was polished, and anything that would hold light was lit to the fullest. The room was almost dream-like. But not like the peach ballroom. This was less…. less transparent. Solidly real.

“Dazzling, no? I believe someone’s showing off.” Damien joked, leading his date to the dance floor as the first dance began to play.

The first few dances flew by, and Sarah quickly regained her dancing feet. The couple stopped for drinks once, and Damien introduced her to a few Fae he knew, but always they went back to the dance floor to enjoy another bout of dream-like whirling. It was approaching Heaven.

The night was perhaps half-over when the bubble popped.

“Cousin Damien.” A voice drawled behind Sarah as the couple stood next to the refreshments.

“Jareth, old man!” her escort’s voice rang out.

The sound of hands clasping. Sarah couldn’t breathe, nor turn around. And both were going to be necessary in the next twenty seconds.

“How’s life on the throne?” Damien asked enthusiastically.

“As it always is. Your own time is spent happily, I pray?” the Goblin King responded in his own voice which had the usual amount of false happiness.

“Impeccably so!” Damien agreed. Formalities concluded, it was nightmare time. “Cousin, let me introduce you to my date tonight – if I may say so, I believe I’ve managed to procure the most beautiful Fae Underground. Sarah, my dear?”

Her twenty seconds were up.


	5. Bother [Jareth]

This ball only happened once every thirteen years, and it was meant to be a showing, really, of the power of the Goblin Kingdom, and therefore, the Goblin King; Jareth.

He dressed in his typical manner, only perhaps a bit fancier. He was of the belief that worth was shown in manners, not in looks. But, his castle could not speak or show any manners, and therefore the showy looks were necessary. The decorators had really gone all out this time.

In the three days following his revelation about an unknown enemy, Jareth had been given more security than usual. Of course, he himself was the best sort of security there was, but his Council agreed upon such things as bodyguards, scopers, an odd wizard to magically examine foods (some poisons might take weeks in acting), and ceilings (in case another one caved in).

So far no further threats, other than the norm, had been detected, nothing that showed anything relating to the “Unknown” that had, it was guessed, been responsible both for the poisoned food and the destroyed throne room. But the Council said, and Jareth secretly agreed (he made it a point to never outwardly agree with the Council), that the Thirteen-Year Ball would be a good time for an attack. For everyone knew Jareth’s love of solitary and disdain of people in general, and that he often stepped out of the ballroom for a fifteen-minute break at intervals during the ball, just to keep himself from murdering a talkative guest or three.

It was also known that there were several other members of royalty attending, and other prominent figures. Security would be spread thin, and enemies thick. There were foods and drinks galore, anyone could slip something into them. There were chandeliers weighing more than a full-grown troll, which could conveniently slip onto a kingly-blonde head.

Precautions taken so far by the Council had been to strictly warn the King against leaving any more than _absolutely necessary_, eating or drinking if at all possible to avoid, and, above all, _staying in view of a security member at all times._

Jareth had listened half-heartedly, and with even less enthusiasm agreed to all of the above.

\-------------

Needless to say, Jareth was extremely unhappy with his night. The Fae guarding the exits gave him a menacing look whenever he tried to escape, and he couldn’t even turn to alcohol to solve that problem. There was women, of course, but Jareth really didn’t like that distraction, never had. They bored him, and he always preferred solitary. Tonight it seemed the only escape, and so he’d tried a few dances, but boredom always prevailed, along with disdain for whatever partner had managed to ensnare him.

And then he saw her.

Why was she _whirling _about with that… that man? Recognition. His cousin! How had he found her? How had she _accepted? _Anger at seeing her and especially at seeing her with someone coursed through Jareth’s veins. He turned around on the spot, willing himself not to look. He must compose himself. Get her out of Damien’s clutches and… and what? He would think of that later. He didn’t want to have her, she’d made him far too angry for that. But that didn’t mean anyone else could.

“Cousin.” Drawled Jareth as he greeted Damien, and concluded the necessary formalities. And then, his prize. An introduction.

“My my, Sarah.” He said as she turned about to face him. Just as he remembered, although perhaps a little redder in the cheeks, although that wasn’t surprising. And now there was an added depth into her green eyes, the sign of age, where her body would not. Her body would never age, only her beautiful mind, and that showed in her cruel eyes. “It has been quite a while, hasn’t it?” he stepped closer, drawing her completely into the conversation.

“Yes.” The beautiful woman whispered, apparently unable to master her voice. Jareth smiled. It was good to be in charge, and at the moment he felt control _completely._

“Damien.” He said suddenly, struck by a wonderful idea.

“Yes, Cousin?” asked Sarah’s escort in his happy manner.

“Might I steal your date for the next dance?” Jareth asked in a very kind and polite manner, smiling in a way that no one could suspect.

“Why, of course, Your Grace.” Damien assented with surprise, holding out Sarah’s hand towards the Goblin King.

“Thank you.” Jareth replied with another smile, leading his prize out to the dance floor. The evening was looking up already.


	6. Crashing Waves [Sarah]

Sometimes, one feels so many emotions it is difficult to tell even at the moment what it is you’re feeling, besides feeling itself.

Sarah had that issue that night. She felt anger, at both Jareth and Damien, for this situation. But she also felt confused, as she didn’t know why the Goblin King would want to dance with her. And she felt longing, to be back with Damien. To be dancing this next dance with the Fae she liked, instead of the King she hated.

“I must say, Fae blood suits you, Sarah.” Jareth said with his trademark smile that appeared pleasant to everyone but Sarah who had heard his words. It probably was pleasant, in actuality. He certainly was enjoying himself.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked him, looking up into his mismatched pupils with her watering emerald eyes. “Why are you doing this to me? Can’t you just leave me alone?”

“No.” Jareth said shortly, pulling her closer in protest to the foot of space she’d been trying to keep between them. “You’re dancing with the King, Sarah, do try and look as if you know how.” He chided.

“Answer me. Why are you doing this?” She demanded, gaining a few inches from the suffocating embrace. 

“I need no reason to wish to dance with you. It was very enjoyable the first time, was it not?” he reminded her of that awful quest, that hades he’d put her through, knowing the whole time that there was no happy ending at the end. 

“Isn’t it sad that I have to be drugged to enjoy your company, Goblin King?” she spat at him, aiming for his heart with a dagger of words. 

Jareth snarled at that and only tightened his grip on her wrist. “Why are you here, Sarah?” he asked, pulling her closer as she fought.

“I was asked here.” She retorted, turning her face away from his imposing chest.

“Ah yes, my cousin.” Jareth’s mouth turned from a smile into a little hard line, “What are you doing with him?”

Sarah was pleased at her partner’s obvious displeasure at that. So, he hadn’t expected her to show up at his ball, as on top of things as she obviously was. “He invited me and I accepted him.” She said, now with a look of infuriating importance.

The silence continued for a moment. Why was he dancing with her, anyways? What did he wish to show her, that he was still so painfully in charge?

“Have you known him long?” Jareth asked at last. Sarah was surprised by the emotion in his voice. That is not to say that it was full of emotion, whether love or hate or even confusion, but even a half-step away from his normal drawl was a surprise.

“I-“ she opened her mouth to answer, but was cut off. A roar rushed through the room, a roar that bounced as an echo coming from far off did. The music abruptly stopped and every couple dancing stumbled. Jareth took a firm grip on Sarah’s wrist as they both looked towards the massive doors leading to the main hall.

The doors shuddered.

And broke.

Water came pouring in, demolishing everything in its path, quickly. If the room had not been of magnificent portions, the entire party would have been crushed and drowned in minutes, but as it was only a handful, those closest to the door, were killed instantly – the ceiling above also groaned, and everyone knew instinctively that there was water above as well.

Sarah could barely breathe, and instantly, the minute the doors broke, Jareth pulled her to his chest and made a sudden turning movement. But nothing happened and he growled in frustration.

Across the room, many others –perhaps half the guests- were attempting similar sharp turns and gave way to similar wails of agony. The entire room was mass chaos as some tried turning again, some ran about looking for companions, some ran looking for exits, most of which were groaning as the doors had moments ago. They were all going to be either drowned, as the water continued pouring in, or crushed if the ceiling gave way. Sarah soon realized what the turns were about – she’d seen, and experienced Jareth do it before. They were trying to vanish. Many were of Royal blood, and Royal Fae could use limited magic. But it wasn’t working, not even for Jareth, not even for the King.

Before she could either find Damien or drown in peace with her mortal enemy, Sarah felt her feet fly from beneath her as she was yanked along with the Goblin King. She followed in a daze, running as fast as she could to keep up with his run. 

And the mist caved in, as Sarah’s adrenaline took over, wanting to escape but not knowing from what, knowing only she could follow, distrusting the man whom she was the safest with, wanting only not to die and to leave this place.

And they fell.


	7. Chase of Chance [Jareth]

It was one thing to threaten him, his own personal safety, but it was another entirely to threaten his _guests, _and Sarah. Jareth was not the type of feel any sort of fear or regret or pity, but there is a certain amount of emotion one will feel at events such as what had just taken place, and every bit of that emotional force was taken up with pure rage. _His _castle, _his _guests, _his _Sarah; even if he didn’t think that fully to himself. 

Luckily, the Goblin king laughed under pressure, did not crack. Before most of the others even realized that they could in fact not magically disappear from the flooding room, Jareth had tried, failed, and hastened for a second option – the room had a few secret exits, safety measures that he had once, no, _several times, _ridiculed. He would probably ridicule something like this again, but luckily for him and several of his guests, the Council and safety team didn’t listen much to his ridicule. If they did, nothing would ever be done.

Without a glance at anyone else, Jareth grabbed his dancing partner roughly by the wrist and began running to where he knew the first exit to be – a trapdoor. He didn’t give another thought to any other guest, but luckily for them, as he would recall later, there were several other Fae in the room that could help. The majority could be saved. 

He wasted no time in dealing with such petty things as ladders, but instead yanked Sarah along with him and kicked hard at the green-and-golden rug that stood in a shunned corner. The wood cracked under the powerful force of his boot and fell into the hole, the hole in which he also flung himself, still holding on tight to Sarah’s wrist, and now her waist, as he twisted them around in midair so he would take the force of the fall. 

The pair hit the cold, stone floor with a poof of dust and grunts on either side. Jareth may have been the Goblin King, eternal and the most powerful being in the Underground, but it was a devilishly long fall and his skin was unaccustomed to much resistance. Sarah would not have been able to survive it, but Jareth was much softer than cold concrete. Only physically, of course, as in emotions and personality the cold concrete was much warmer and much softer.

Inhaling deeply, it took Jareth only a second to regain the wind that had been punched out of him, and he had pulled both to their feet. 

“Where-“ Sarah started but was cut off.

“We’re under the castle, very far under the castle,” Jareth said quickly, again taking her wrist in his pale, thin fingers. He turned to move, and again to run, before an instinct hit him and he quickly turned to the woman before him, “Are you hurt?”

Sarah was hurt, you could tell at a glance, but she stubbornly answered, “No.”

Jareth was equally as stubborn. Without another word, he began running down the tunnel, not even hesitating for a second at the endless twists and turns it took. It was like another labyrinth, but this one was not meant for Sarah. This one was not for the protection of his City, but for _his _protection. Yes, he had ridiculed the idea. 

After a few mere minutes of running he felt an increasing pressure on his left hand; Sarah was lagging behind. Realizing she would probably fall on her face in a few moments, he stopped short and let her run into him. It was a mark of how exhausted she was, that she didn’t even spare him an angry look for that, only collapsed into kneeling position against the wall. One hundred breaths, Jareth decided – he was being generous. 

But only twenty-three breaths in (he was counting), a new sound could be heard, the sound of rushing water. Mismatched pupils met shimmering green as both parties realized in a heartbeat what that meant – the water had not stopped, and the tunnels were flooding. 

That instant, both were on their feet –although Jareth had remained on his throughout – and running again, Jareth in the lead. He knew these tunnels by heart, one of the few things he did not ridicule. Knowing the mazes was a particular pride of his, just below his hairstyle. 

But in another short moment, his left hand again began dragging even more urgently, as Sarah fell further and further into exhaustion. They must keep going, keep going….

He caught her just as she began to fall. The water was very close now. 

Curse whomever had built these tunnels so narrowly. He wouldn’t ridicule them anymore, he would have the builder executed for such poor foresight. It was an incredible challenge to carry Sarah along without hurting her, and this slowed him down immensely. The water was rushing closer, closer, both could hear it. 

He stumbled, as he tried to take a corner too fast and almost hit Sarah’s precious dark head on the cold stone. He didn’t, though. He couldn’t do that. He couldn’t go fast enough. No – he was the _Goblin King, _and he _would _go fast enough, so help—

The water was lapping his heels now, and Sarah was in a faint. There was a chance………if he was wrong, they both died. But if he didn’t try, wouldn’t they anyway? Or was that light up ahead? Or was it only an illusion of the water? It was enough to make Jareth cry out in frustration – why must it be him who held their lives in hand? But who else would he trust?


	8. Dawn Rising [Sarah]

A faint glow began, slowly growing more sharp and concentrated, as if a glob of gray paint was being washed away by a wet sponge, slowly letting in the golden that shone from behind it. Ebony lashes fluttered, like a bird trying to take flight, but it couldn’t, something was leaving…

Oh, that was adrenaline. It was gone now, and Sarah was waking up. 

Before she could open her eyes, she realized she could feel, and possibly hear. Yes, there was sound. She felt something firm underneath her, she oriented herself and realized she was in fact lying down. Voices began to come into focus, low, high, many. 

Her eyes opened.

The first sight she caught was a ripple of black velvet, embedded with diamonds. It was night, she was outside. The moon was half-full, but completely unveiled and bathing the field she lay in with milky light. It was such a peaceful place – or rather, it would be, if it weren’t full of people.

“Sarah!” came a man’s voice. She worked to remember – a man’s voice, oh. She’d been to a ball. There had been dancing, eating, drinking, and water… and tunnels. Yes, she had been fleeing through tunnels, and fainted. This must be the Goblin King.

“Sarah, can you hear me?” it said with great concern. She still did not want to move, and her eyelids were growing heavy. “Yes,” she whispered.

A hand brushed her cheek. “I was so worried about you.” Sarah wondered at that. Worried? And why was he brushing her cheek? It was all extremely out of character.

“How did we get out?” she asked, trying to open her eyes again.

“Used magic.” Came a second voice, this one seeming from higher up and not from beside her. “The barrier had worn off so far down.” Sarah was confused. Her head began to hurt, trying to remember who was who and why she had been down- oh.

“Your majesty?” she asked, eyes still closed. “You’re welcome,” the voice from above her taunted, and then she heard a swishing of fabric indicating he’d walked away.

“Damien?” she tried, moving her head to the side. As she truly opened her eyes this time, brown hair and easy blue eyes filled her vision. “Hallo angel,” he said easily, taking hold of her hand. “I’m glad you’re alright.”

She breathed in deeply, beginning to fully awake. “What happened, how did you get out?” she asked with anxiety. Had anyone… had anyone not made it?

Damien waved his free hand with a small smile. “My cousin isn’t the only one who knows secret exits. There were plenty of other Fae about who could tell us where to jump. Most of us got out alright, and we’re all coming out up here. Out of the tunnels, I mean. Those were a nightmare,” he shuddered. Sarah realized that probably only certain Fae could navigate the tunnels that Jareth had memorized.

“Wha-“ Sarah tried to sit up and her head protested. As did Damien. “Woah, slow down, you’ve got forever to wake up,” he eased. But she persisted until she was leaning against him, trying to take in the sights. The grassy field was covered in Fae, each still in their dancing outfits. A glance at her own dress told her it wasn’t going to be used again – covered in dust and water and a few blonde hairs which she shuddered at. 

The Goblin King himself was walking about, nodding at subjects and commanding others. A group of five, three men and two women, followed in his wake, trying to talk to him but being continuously brushed off. He looked distracted. But he had apparently saved her life, probably risking his own, and Sarah was annoyed at that. Now she couldn’t fully hate him without feeling guilty.

“Where’s my mother?” she asked instantly, as she realized what agony the woman would be enduring if she knew what was happening. “We’re to stay here until morning, safety measures,” Damien warned, brushing her hair back with his hand. “She’ll be okay.”

In about a half hour, goblins started coming through and putting up makeshift tents. Some of the Fae used their limited magic to construct or modify their own dwellings. Sarah was not of royal blood, so she could do neither, but Damien graciously offered to do it for her. They were just looking about for an unoccupied tent when the Goblin King walked up. “Come,” he commanded Sarah.

“No,” she said automatically in her stubborn way. “Why?” she asked at a second thought.

Jareth smiled. “Your adopted mother is frantic, my dear, I think it is time you were home. What is that mortal story? The one with the girl who turned into a orange?”

Sarah sighed huffily. “A pumpkin, and it’s way past midnight anyway.”

“Then we’d best hurry.”

Damien frowned at his cousin. “Are we allowed to leave, then?”

Jareth grinned. “Not everyone. But Sarah is,” and then, apparently done waiting, he grabbed her by the wrist and began to walk off. Sarah barely had time to look over her shoulder and send a pleading look at Damien before they were gone from the masses of people.

She frowned up at the Goblin King, and yanked her wrist from his pale fingers. 

“You’re a bit ungrateful this evening,” he commented.

“I still hate you, Goblin King,” she reminded him with a huff. Nothing could change what he’d done to her.

“In fact,” he continued without listening, “You’re a bit ungrateful in general.”

She crossed her arms, partly from anger and partly to block out the chill of the evening. Now that he was back to acting the unprintable word, she could hate him in peace.

But the blonde man only smiled ruefully and moved his thick cloak from his shoulders to hers, helping her situate it in a way that made her cringe. She hated him touching her, running his hands along her shoulders and down her arms. She shrugged away and turned her head. He only lingered his right hand on her back for a moment and then left her in peace.

They walked in silence for a moment.

But Sarah was possibly even more impatient than Jareth, for it was she who broke the silence. “How can you possibly call _me _ungrateful?”

Jareth smiled again – this whole walk seemed to put him in a good mood. “I suppose I can’t really judge your day to day life, then, can I? Perhaps it is only to me that you are ungrateful. But I forgive you,” he moved to run a finger along her cheek, but she ducked away from him – only bringing forth another one of his infuriating smiles.

“You’ve done nothing nice for me!” she cried, incredulous, “Hello, you stole my brother!”

“You asked me to,” he warned, frowning.

“You—you let me run the labyrinth, thinking I could _save _him! You put me through thirteen hours of hell and then trapped me in this… this-“ 

He cut her off. “I presented you with the rules, Sarah. You had thirteen hours to save your brother, and save him you did. He is living safely at home. You wished him away, Sarah, and I granted your wish. Was that not generous of me?”

She only glared at him. “I liked my world, you know.”

“Rules are rules, precious.”

“Don’t call me that!”

The smile returned and he even let out a small laugh. But then silence came back upon the two.

The shadowy outlines of the Goblin City began to merge into their line of vision. Dawn was rising.

“You know,” said the Goblin King at last, “I think if they wrote us into a storybook in your mortal world, I would be the antagonist. Or what do they call them? The, hm, ‘Bad Guy’?”

“You would be,” Sarah said with angered certainty. 

They were at the door.

“Write me that book someday, then, precious,” Jareth said with a final smile, “And then maybe you’ll understand why it wouldn’t work that way.”


	9. Damien's Information [Jareth]

As Jareth left his mortal beauty at the door to her house, he left with smiles. But the thin lines of his pale lips fell back into a troubled state as soon as her door shut behind her ravishing ebony hair. Heavens, he’d forgotten about how she was to look at. From the rosiness of her always-flushed skin, the unpredictableness of her emerald eyes, those eyes he loved reading above all else; her hair which always seemed to get in the way. But sometimes, he found himself looking past that skin, hair, even the unequaled verdant hues of her eyes – but into her eyes, the windows of her soul. She wasn’t the sort to hide emotion, no, she was an actress and only magnified it. But her emotions, her thoughts and actions and words, they were as beautiful if not more attractive than her physical appearance. She was so cunning, so… immature. He had never met another girl like her, and he hated it.

And, darn it, someone had tried to _kill _her.

It didn’t matter who was the original target (probably himself), Sarah had been there, and she had been close to death. If he’d let her go with that… that cousin of his, she would be dead. He felt confident of it. Because only _he _was capable of protecting her and he couldn’t see why his poor excuse for a relation even thought he had the business to try. 

But that wasn’t all that was troubling the Goblin King at the moment. For yes, while he could think of it in no other way but Sarah having been targeted and almost killed, there was still the rest that came with it – twenty-three dead Fae. Crushed, thirteen of them, and the rest had picked an unlucky tunnel. Seven nobility, and three of his own personal security Fae that had been leading. They were _dead, _and someone had done it. There was much to be done, and that was why all the Fae were still in the fields across from his castle. To be accounted and counted. And investigated.

“How’s this coming?” Jareth snarled at Augustus. He was in no happy mood, and everyone would pay the consequences. 

“Slowly but surely, your grace!” Augustus tried to be optimistic. Jareth growled. “Put more people on it, for Heaven’s sake! I thought I stressed, I _thought _I had made myself clear, that _speed _is of the _utmost _importance.” Jareth paused here and looked down at Augustus, bending and putting his thin, gloved hand on the man’s shoulder. “Was I at all unclear in my orders, Augustus?”

The advisor trembled under the hand of the Goblin King. “No, no, your Majesty! I will assign more men, I swear to-“

“Swear to _me._” Jareth interrupted with a ferocious growl, using his rough grip on his advisor’s shoulder to throw him to the ground, trembling. And then he was gone before one could even blink.

It must have worked, because within the next two hours, just as the sun had fully shaken off her morning sleepiness, the lists he had wanted were prepared. “Deal with them,” Jareth said absentmindedly, waving a lazy hand at the masses of people and tents. Medea, who was standing next to him worriedly, nodded her head and promised that she would. 

In a puff of glitter, the Goblin King had left his fields and was back in his Castle study. The spell had apparently worn off by this point, which had been a frustrating thing to the wizards who were investigating. If one could study a spell for long enough, one could possibly track it. And nothing would have been better than to track the spell, for they usually gave very conclusive evidence. 

He studied the small stack of papers in front of him. It was such menial work, perhaps normally better left for other workers much lower than Jareth himself, but this one required his special attention on many fronts. First, because it was a level five, direct attack on him in his home, that had almost killed him. Second, because it contained much information that could be trusted to very few others. And third, because no one knew as much about the people in the Underground as the Goblin King. And this job definitely needed an in-depth knowledge about the people, or more specifically, the Fae of the Underground.

“No…no…no…no…” Jareth ticked off in red ink name after name. In green ink he connected names that needed connecting, especially related to the deceased Fae. In blue he made notes, regarding connections and political situations. A few close family members who might benefit if he were to die. He almost wished his cousin Apollo had been there, just to give him someone to focus his anger on. Apollo was next in line to the throne, if anything were to happen to Jareth. But he was also the nicest Fae anyone had ever met, and although Jareth really detested ‘nice’ people, even he had to grudgingly admit that the idea of Apollo planning such a stunt was as absurd as the idea of the sun not rising in the morning. Not only was he so impeccably pleasant and easygoing, but he grossly detested the idea of the throne ever coming to him. Or, so he claimed. Yes, he would be looked into, but not as carefully as Jareth would like to look into someone, just to have someone to blame, to hate. He wanted to wrap his fingers around someone’s throat and blame them for this hades they’d inflicted upon him. 

“No…no…no…no…” none of the names on the list struck a chord as someone who’d be a murderer, or even have the brains to set up anything of the sort. It was going to be a long day.

“Jareth!”

And it had just gotten even longer. Wait, wasn’t he the only one with the power to alter time? Because right now it felt as if someone’d taken that away and was playing horrible games with it.

“Damien, come in and have it out quickly please.” He sighed, standing from his desk and rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“Right!” the brunette Fae smiled, clapping the blonde king on the shoulder. “Well, a few things actually.”

Jareth muttered unprintable words under his breath.

“First off, I wanted to know what Artemis was doing here last night. Aren’t she and her brother supposed to be off in the North this week? I was under the impression that the diplomatic relations between our kingdom and the northern tribes were vitally important.”

Jareth’s head snapped up at that statement. Annoyance at his cousin was almost, _almost, _overpowered by that shocking piece of news. “She is supposed to be in the North, both of them.” And the diplomatic relations between his Goblin City and the unruly northern tribes _were _vitally important. “How do you know this, Damien?” Jareth asked sharply, turning his thoughtful gaze onto his cousin.

Damien’s smile had been replaced by a worried, serious look. “We’re all cousins, Jareth, and I talked to Apollo before they left. We talked about missing the Annual Thirteenth, and if he was upset, and et cetera.”

“Was he upset?” Jareth asked, “Was Artemis?”

Damien nodded. “He was, but Artemis wasn’t. You know how she is, though.” And to that Jareth nodded in agreement. His cousin was very noble and proud, and loyal, but very cold. She cared not for people, or at least not people in his city. But she was very persuasive, and people had the tendency to trust her, and love her, especially for her beauty. Combined with the easy manners and friendly attitude of her twin brother, they were the perfect diplomatic team.

The two, Jareth and Damien, stood in silence for a moment.

Shaking his blonde head, Jareth took in the information and cordially thanked his cousin. Well, it hadn’t been a complete waste of time. “I will look into it, and may contact you later.” He said, whilst only praying it wouldn’t be necessary. Damien and him had never been close, even as children, nor friendly as adults, but seeing the man with Sarah had aroused an anger against his cousin within him. Luckily, Damien was the optimistically oblivious kind.

“Right.” Said the brunette Fae, and turned to exit, before remembering one last thing. “Oh, by the by, is Sarah alright? I figured there must have been a special reason for her leaving the fields before everyone, but she’s still upset, and just as confused as I about it.”

Jareth’s stoic expression turned into a frown. “That is no concern of yours,” he said rather forcefully, and nodded goodbye, clearly indicating the conversation was over.


	10. Enter; Shadow [Sarah]

“Damien, stop.” Sarah said with a rather whining tone in her voice. The brunette fae had her tight in an embrace and wouldn’t let go to speak, which bugged her because she wanted answers _fast. _

After a moment, Damien released her and kissed her forehead. “I was worried sick, you know.” He murmured. Sarah shrugged it off and pushed him away slightly, completely focused on her desire – conversation. “What happened, Damien? I can’t figure out what was happening. I couldn’t think when I woke up, and now I’ve slept and I found out I still have no idea what was going on!”

The mischievous smile returned to Damien’s face. “Oh, angel. Alright, well, it was a tricky bit of magic. No one knows who was being targeted, or who was behind it.”

“Behind _what, _Damien?!”

“The water. Like I said, a tricky bit of magic. So far as anyone can tell, it was stemming from an opened sort of portal in the upper hall. Probably with another portal under the ocean or something of that sort – had to be pretty massive to get that much water in. Well, you saw it, it came crashing down and in, bam-boom, and you saw the rest with your own eyes.”

Sarah sat a moment to study on that. Someone had been trying to kill someone else (_who?_ _Jareth?_), and they hadn’t cared about how many other people they slaughtered in the wake. If there hadn’t been safety exits… “And… and everyone found the exits alright?”

There was a second’s hesitation, but then a very quick, “Yes, everyone found the exits alright.”

“I saw a few people under a waterfall before we.. ran. Did they find exits?”

“They exited.” Damien was brief, and took hold of her hand. “Look, Sarah, answer me now. Why did you leave the fields so early yesterday morning?”

“That was my next question.”

Their eyes met and despite mutual confusion and frustration, the pair laughed together. Perhaps from happiness in confidence, perhaps from mutual anger at the Goblin King who was being so mysterious, perhaps from something else. Later Sarah would take each possibility and mull it over, to herself, again and again…

Ambrosine came into the room at this point, and took hold of Damien’s other hand, the one which was not still holding tight to Sarah. “Damien.” She spoke with a soft smile, “Sarah has spoken about you. Thank you for taking care of her, and caring for her. I cannot express how it sets my mind at ease.”

Damien was the picture-perfect gentleman. “I am the blest one, ma’am. Sarah is the type of woman that a man rejoices in looking after.”

Ambrosine was obviously flattered by the compliment of her adopted daughter. “I think you two should head out for a bit, I’ve packed a basket of fruit.” Turning to Sarah, “You need sunshine and nutrition, now. I trust you, Damien, to see that she starts walking down the path to regained health.” She cast a falsely-stern eye over the grinning Fae, who nodded in equal mock-graveness. 

Less than a half-hour later, the pair had found a rather nice little hill of grass to rest on, contentedly munching on the apples and strawberries Ambrosine had packed. Sarah determinately avoided the peaches.

Their conversation ranged over the better part of two hours, across everything from music to faerie-bite remedies. Sarah felt herself relaxing from the emotional rollercoaster the disastrous ball had been. Relaxed enough, even, to continue conversation even when Damien moved the train of thought into her past.

“So how did you get down here, Sarah? Into this world, from yours?”

“That’s a long story.” She sighed, brushing a raven lock from her eyes. She knew she would end up telling it that day, but she wanted him to work for it.

“Sensitive?”

“Maybe a bit. Painful. I guess I’ve come to love some people down here, but it’s a lot to leave behind, you know?”

“Did you not come of your own will?” Damien asked, with surprise in his tone.

“No, I—“ Sarah was cut off as a shadow suddenly darkened her view, and her companion. A tall shadow, that was thinner down towards the source and thicker on top, with a rather spiky look at the tip... 

And it came accompanied by a voice.

“Not to barge in and be rude, but Damien, my dear cousin, shove off. And Sarah, come with me, you’re needed at the castle.”

Sarah thought only one word, and it was not suitable for print.

“Jareth –“ but Damien too was cut off, again by his cousin.

“You’re both rather slow today. Must be the sunshine. Come.” He then bent down and grabbed Sarah’s wrist, pulling her to her feet. “Um, no!” she said in an angry voice, jerking her hand away. “I don’t live at your call, you jerk.”

Jareth frowned. “Live, perhaps not. I’ll settle for obey, or even just doing something without acting like a spoiled child. Now, Damien, I believe I asked you to shove off? Perhaps I should be more clear – _I command you to go.”_ Jareth again took Sarah’s hand and pulled her closer to him again. “Or,” he added as an afterthought, “We just could.” And as Sarah sent her companion one last ‘HELP’ look, the Goblin King and his prize vanished in a puff of glitter.

“What-“ Sarah sputtered, pushing Jareth roughly away from her, “Was that? Why am I here? Just…” she screamed in frustration.

“Sarah, I have no time for your antics today.” Jareth spoke roughly.

“Stop talking to me like I’m a kid!” she screeched at him. How was this happening again? How could the two of them not stand together for a _second _without fighting like cats and dogs?

“I will when you give _any _indication that you are not, in fact, a child.” He spat back.

Sarah stomped her foot before she realized just in fact how juvenile that would seem. Shaking it off, she turned it back on… on _him _again. “What am I doing here now? Have something else to dangle in front of me and then yank away? Have another waterfall you need to dump on me, another oubliette to drop me in?!”

Jareth ran a gloved hand across his unearthly white face. “Sarah, you are here under protection because your life has been directly threatened. While sometimes the thought of just letting you out of sight for even a moment, and letting you taste your own consequences, is appealing, that would be rather…” he paused, and shot a gaze across her that made her shiver, “…un-gentlemanlike.”

“You’re not a gentleman.” She tried, but the claim of her being threatened was enough to shake her. He was lying, right? He had to be.

“Not all the time.” He agreed, stepping over and running a gloved hand across her cheek. “But maybe today."


	11. Exit; Civility [Jareth]

The lovely thing about walls, Jareth had always thought, was that they were like smooth, solid allies, just waiting there to help him at all times. Bodyguards could be killed, council-persons could be confused, friends (he never bothered to even try and obtain any of those, though) could back out, even family was mere, weak, corruptible. But walls – they stood firm, always ready to help those who knew them, who used them. Most things inanimate, actually, could be used ever so well by those who truly knew them. That was why Jareth preferred walls and floors and stairs and doors ever so much more to any sort of living thing – goblins, fae, etc. Sarah was the first, and last, thing that drew breath that interested him above his Labyrinth. 

And now, with the help of his wall ally, she was stuck.

“Sometimes, I forget exactly how much I enjoy your presence,” Jareth whispered with a bit of surprise.

Sarah’s wide green eyes reflected his own mismatched pupils. “I’ve never forgotten how much I hate yours,” she said, her expression now glazing over into what the Goblin King recognized as her defense system. Defense from _him._ It made him smile, knowing what she was feeling. This was how she’d wanted it as a girl, this was how she presumably wanted it now – her, the princess, and him, the mysterious prince. So help him, this time…

But was now the time for these things? There was over ten years of nasty brooding each in turn would have to get over before his job would be complete, before the promise he’d pledged himself to years prior would be fulfilled. They were an odd pair, but that only made the chase more fun. 

He moved his face closer towards hers, as she stood in still shock. He could kiss her now, she wouldn’t be able to move. That defiant, headstrong girl who thought she’d grown over the past ten years. She’d aged, yes; her body had completed its process and halted at the prime. She’d learned more, about her new world, she’d forgotten things about her old world. But she hadn’t changed. There was an obstacle, blocking her path; acceptance. She wouldn’t change until she accepted the changes she’d been forced into, and that wasn’t happening any time soon, Jareth knew. He hadn’t accepted them yet. But he hadn’t changed in years. Maybe, someday… 

Not today. He was sobered by the thought that things must be done to assure Sarah would get her chance _to _change, eventually. She had to keep breathing for that. And that was his job. It was always his job, she was always his job. There were worse things.

So his thoughtful look changed into a frightening grin. “Always so contrary. Is it easier than finding new thought?” he said softly, still only inches away from her defensive face.

“But you need not worry about conversation now, precious. Let me show you to what I will call your room and you will call your prison,” he whispered into her ear, and then pulled away. Grabbing her hand with his own gloved appendage before she had time to come out of her shocked shell and protest, he led her down a hall and to a tall oaken door.

“No, I—“ but Jareth cut her off. “Let’s pretend that you’ve learned by now that arguing with me always ends with defeat,” He commanded, all the smooth subtleties in his voice now gone to make room for the command that his position as King demanded. 

Sarah bit her lip, as Jareth brought her into a room. It was fit for a queen, with a plush bed, separate washroom, and a closet which was, for the present, empty. A table sat in a sunny corner under a window, and a stylish pianoforte occupied another. Jareth had overseen the room personally. He had simply set in everything he himself would enjoy, from the bed-curtains to the pianoforte. Luckily, he was rather clever at getting in touch with his feminine side.

“I want Damien to come and see me,” Sarah said unexpectedly, after a moment of silence while the pair surveyed the room.

“What?” Jareth asked roughly, caught off guard.

“Damien. Your cousin,” She explained.

“What?” he asked again, “No.”

Sarah laughed a cruel, ringing laugh and rolled her emerald eyes. “Always so contrary,” she mocked, placing her hands on her hips, “Is that easier than thinking up a new thought?”

Jareth snarled. With anyone _but _her, his thought process, his emotions, everything stayed smoothly on a railed train of thought. But put _her _in the room, and she got to him. He could only hope he got to her just as much. But, heaven help him, he was not letting that idiot of a cousin in to see _her. _

“Sarah, honestly. Must you?” 

“I’m not the one here being unreasonable!”

“Yes, you are! I bring you here to protect you, as I have done in the past more times that I can count, and you respond by being contrary, childish, and unreasonable.”

Sarah stepped closer to him, anger obviously overcoming fear. “Are you jealous, Jareth?”

The name cut him to the bone. He couldn’t remember her ever directly addressing him before, with his name. Goblin King, jerk, Majesty, anything, but never his given name. It bounced through his head and into a funny place in his chest, and throat, and stomach. Along with the realization that she was right, of course. He was bloody well jealous. And he didn’t have any reason to be! As if that poor excuse of a Fae could ever compare in any way, shape, or form, to _him; _the Goblin King.

So why, in the name of heaven, did the most beautiful Fae in the Underground, his precious former-mortal girl, prefer that… that _cousin. _Over him? He, who had succumbed to her every whim, exceeded her every expectation, flung himself at her feet just before towering over her head…. 

“Yes, Sarah. Very,” He growled, and closed the gap between them. Before his prize even had time to react, he had taken her head in his hands and brought their faces together. And for an eternal moment, the two clashed together, each one acting purely off instinct, hands entwining hair and lips exploring the other. Though presumably it was a first kiss for Sarah, and perhaps even Jareth, they went at it as if they’d practiced the dance for years. As if no other face could ever match so perfectly against theirs, as if together they were one. One performer, one star, one conductor. They, together, pushed every bit of history that hurt both equally, away, back, out of mind, and sympathized with each other over each other. Their combined hatred, love, anger, regret, and longing mixed for a moment in time that could never be recreated. A chemical mixture that worked once in a lifetime, for a beautiful, lasting moment, and then exploded over everything, ripping through everything and causing only the pain that had been poured into it.

They both stepped away at the same moment, each taking with them the anger, the pain, the lust. They’d combined, through their kiss, every negative emotion they contained, and shared it, spread it evenly around. When before Jareth had felt nothing but anger, he now felt regret. Where before Sarah had felt nothing but hatred, she felt lust. And the pair just stood, in heavy silence, breathing and becoming lost in the other’s eyes. 

At last, after a moment that seemed even longer than the timeless angelic angst of their kiss, Sarah spoke.

Her words cut like a razor through the thick silence and unspoken emotions. “You should be. He’s ten times anything you could hope for.”

Jareth only could stare back. She’d insulted him before, made a game of it, and he’d played with her. Parried her thrusts, laughed at her anger. But this was different, after what had just taken place… this made him angry. Perhaps the first time she’d ever hurt him this deeply. Before it had hurt, yes, but she’d been young then. He’d been trying to distract her. But now, they were both old enough to know what they were doing. Both of them knew just what sort of game was being played, and were big enough to inflict massive damage.

Or maybe it was just her who could inflict massive damage. Because for the first time in Jareth’s long life, he couldn’t think of a single comeback to equal what she had just stabbed him with. He desired to go to her again, and bite those hateful lips. He wanted her with him, against him, but at the same time he wanted her gone. Permanently. Anything to erase that pain.

As he turned to leave in silence, Jareth at last caught onto something that could be properly stabbed back. Suitable revenge. “I could care less about either of you. I’ve gotten what I wanted, now.” He lied, and exited the room without even looking at her again.


	12. Falsity [Sarah]

Sarah stood alone in her new prison, dazed. As if there was no more emotion to be spent, no more room for thinking about how she felt. There were too many things to think about, too many feelings to be dealt with. She sat down on her bed, but jumped up again. She paced the room, but couldn’t walk a straight line to save her life, and tried sitting again, and then lying down. Her thoughts jumped about the same way her stomach did. She tried focusing on what was most distressing her, but couldn’t. She tried going about everything logically, from start to finish, but couldn’t focus.

Finally, she stood and screamed, the loudest she’d ever screamed. Louder than when she’d been dropped into the oubliette, louder than when she’d almost fallen into the bog, louder than when she’d been running from the water at the ball. Or had she screamed then? Even that was a blur. That was another event she hadn’t processed. There was too much to process.

And that was why she screamed. 

And the sound made her feel much better indeed; not in the sense that she didn’t feel wounded, or confused, but it was if she’d forced away a wall that had been blocking everything. Now she could sit and cry, or scream again if that was how she felt, and nothing stood in the way.

Nothing, that was, but a few Fae who rushed into the room. Sarah was too surprised to speak, not that she’d been in a good way to speak before. 

“My lady, what is wrong?” the first Fae demanded, as his three companions began systematically searching her room. 

“Er, who are you?” was Sarah’s answer.

“Nothing, sir,” reported one of the Fae that had searched the room. His two companions emerged from various other places and nodded affirmation.

“Madam, you screamed. Are you hurt in any way?”

Sarah _was _hurt, but not in the way he meant. “No, um, no,” she clumsily said, “But who are you?”

The main Fae bowed to her, and motioned the other three out of the door. “Security, ma’am. I am pleased that this was only a false alarm.” He moved across the room, to her bed. “This,” he said, indicating a certain slat in her headboard, “Is your alarm. If you should ever be in need of us, only push it backwards. We will come.” And with that, he and his men nodded and left the room, before Sarah could even protest. 

And then all the anger and confusion came back to her, only this time with the added worry she’d forgotten – her life being threatened. 

It was something that should take precedence over everything. Over her interruption with Damien, her back-and-forth with Jareth, and the awful, blinding choices they’d made afterward. But she hadn’t any information on that. All she had was that one remark – ‘your life has been threatened’. Of course, the one sensible bit left in her cried out, she would have had more information if she’d been less frantic. If she’d listened instead of screaming. But that horrid, horrid Goblin King always rushed in, never paused to explain. He was at fault. Yes. She could only deal with things if he was at fault. He was the bad guy in the story, and today just pushed him further into the prewritten role.

The first idea that came to her was the waterfall. Had the waterfall been for her? But no, that was egotism speaking there. A few hundred royal Fae had been in the room, and the Goblin King himself. That, that was coincidence. The more Sarah meditated on it, the only person she saw plotting against her life was Jareth himself. But then, why would he be protecting her? Unless that was just a plot as well…

Of course, she saw the foolishness of it all quite quickly. A rebellious thought flashed through her – why not push back the board in the headboard and tell the guard Fae about her theory? But, no, they might alert the Goblin King himself, and as much as she would love to get a good jab at him, she couldn’t face him right now.

Sarah Williams flung herself back across the plush bed and hugged a pillow to her chest. It wasn’t her threatened life that consumed her mind, it wasn’t even that heart-stopping moment of a kiss; it was what he had said afterwards. What she had said that had prompted it. Or had what she said prompted it? Would he have said it if she hadn’t angered him? Would he have meant it? Did he mean it?

She thought, he probably did. 

_Did I mean it?_

Surely what she said had been true. It was true. She remembered exactly what had prompted it – anger. She hadn’t been thinking a whit about Damien. She had searched deep within and beyond to find what would most anger him, and had targeted his pride. It must have succeeded. It had to have. It had to be worth it, she couldn’t bear it if it wasn’t. 

_“You should be. He’s ten times anything you could hope for.”_

That was true. Damien was ten times anything Jareth could ever hope for. 

Sarah grabbed hold of that truth, and clung to it. She let it comfort her, she let it redeem her. 

_“I could care less about either of you. I’ve gotten what I wanted, now.” _

And was that true?

It had to be. It fit too well to be anything else. 

Was that all the malicious Goblin King had ever wanted? Her? Her submission, her admittance of… not love. Never love. But her admittance of something in the same family of emotions, so obscure even Sarah could not place it? Was that all he desired? 

And what would become of her now that he had gotten it?

And why would she wish for any other emotion from him?

Sarah hugged the pillow, letting her exhausted mind jump about. From what had happened the night of the ball, to what had interrupted her picnic. She began realizing that her focus was not on threatening events, nor on happy events. But on the Goblin King, and what and how she felt around him. Everything was distorted now. She’d been tainted by him. They were two paints on a palette, her white and him black. She’d avoided him, disdained him, rejected him. But today, she had let him in, and now they were gray. Together. She was tainted, and he…. He was no worse off. He would soon again become black, but she would never be able to rid herself of the gray. Goodness, she realized, had no lasting effect on bad. But she would never be the same from the experience. 

“Sarah.”

In her muddled thoughts, she imagined the accented voice to belong to Jareth. She could see him standing behind her, tall, unmovable. 

“You’ve gotten what you wanted, so get out,” she begged. She couldn’t face him.

“I haven’t gotten what I wanted,” the voice sounded surprised, “And I brought what’s left of our picnic.”

Sarah turned around, unbelieving. “He said he wouldn’t let you in-“

“Who?” asked Damien.

“Your cousin, he said you couldn’t come-“ and Sarah realized the truth. She realized that Jareth had really meant what he said, that he had gotten what he had wanted. He had been jealous, and Damien had been taboo. But now he had won her, he had tainted her. And now he was not jealous, and so the former threat was only a compulsory gesture. 

And instead of being grateful for Damien’s company, and instead of being grateful that now Jareth would presumably leave her alone, Sarah was crushed. 

“I didn’t want it to be like this!” she screeched, and threw a pillow at perhaps the only Fae aside her adopted mother that cared for her. “I wanted to beat him, not be handed a win!”

Damien, now very concerned, came up and put his arms around her shoulders. “Sarah, you make less sense than my cousin right now. What in the world are you speaking about?”

“I don’t know,” she cried, pushing his arms away, “I don’t know anything right now.”

“That’s more than I know, honestly,” Damien breathed. Sarah could detect aggravation in his easy-going face, the first, she realized, negative emotion she’d ever seen in him.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. And she realized she didn’t want him sitting next to her, because he would never understand what she was talking about, how she was feeling. Only one being could understand her, and that was the very reason she hated that one being. 

“I’m not upset with you, lovely,” soothed Damien, his face clearing. “I’m upset with my cousin. He won’t tell me a thing, and he’s in an awful foul mood. I was hoping he’d told you something, but I guess he hasn’t.” Damien sighed. “It’s alright. I’ll take care of you.”

And Sarah didn’t want to be taken care of. But there wasn’t really another choice; she couldn’t tell Damien that he couldn’t understand. He was a genuinely nice person, and she wouldn’t give that up for the world.

Yes. That was another certainty which comforted her. Damien was a genuinely good person. And he was on her side. Maybe… with him around… maybe Jareth couldn’t hurt her. Anymore than he already had, anyway.

And with that in mind, rebellion swelled up in Sarah’s mind again, dangerous rebellion. And without thinking anywhere past the next few encounters in her life, she acted. She looked up at Damien, completely unaware of whatever he was saying, grabbed his chin, and kissed him full on the lips.

Damien’s shock showed through his wide-open pale eyes. But within a moment, he had both hands behind her head and entwined in her ebony hair, and neither pair of eyes were open.

Sarah wouldn’t say she didn’t enjoy it. It, she knew instantly, wasn’t the real thing. This was her second kiss, and she couldn’t say much on the subject. But this, she could say with certainty, wasn’t real emotion. It was heat in a moment, at least on her part. Even her kiss with Jareth had been less false than this. But she couldn’t afford to think about that now. Not when she was destroying everything in her life, one kiss at a time. 


	13. Fire and Fear [Jareth]

“No, Sarah, you’re doing it quite wrong; must not have enough experience yet, although I greatly admire your passion for learning. But you see, you’re not quite ferocious enough yet; you’re going all for the lower lip. Go more for the upper, that’s right. Yes, not quite enough fire yet, although I think that you’ll improve that rapidly, at the rate of practice you’re getting.”

Sarah’s head immediately yanked away from Damien’s, and both looked up with eyes wide in surprise, and on Sarah’s part, fear. 

Jareth smiled with animal-like malice and walked closer to the couple. Inside he was anything but smiling at what he had just witnessed, but no one could know that. And it did give him a good bit of satisfaction, breaking them up. And having Sarah so obviously fear him. And.. was that embarrassment? No, it was gone now. But he could have sworn that she was embarrassed. Or ashamed? She certainly should be. He was very angry with them both, and his embarrassing interruption was only a quick solution. Both would feel more of his wrath, in a more concentrated way, soon. Soon.

But Sarah had now turned her gaze cold and seemingly indifferent. “I thought we’d finished,” she accused, as both she and Damien stood up and let a little space grow between them.

“I can see that,” Jareth said coldly. “I did not bring my cousin here today for you to practice with, however. I brought him here because I have not yet informed you of your circumstances, and as you two seemed _so _close, I thought he ought to know as well.” 

He meant this as a stab, a proof. Proof that he cared not whether Sarah, his Sarah, loved anyone else. Proof that he had gotten what he wanted, her submission. It was untrue, but he meant it to sting. And, if he’d learned anything about her, if he’d learned at all to read those emerald eyes, she was upset.

And that was just how he wanted it. 

“Oh, thank the Fates,” exclaimed Damien, “At last, some information!”

Sarah glanced coldly up and down Jareth. “It’s only been what, ten years since you’ve last parted any? Pray what opened your lips, Goblin King?”

“You, my dear; but only the bottom lip.”

\-------------

The three stood in the throne room. Jareth did not wish to carry on any type of serious conversation in _her _room, that room where he’d caught _him _and _her _kissing. 

Sarah’s cheeks were still flushed red, and she had not yet regained use of her words from his last comment. Damien was also looking rather coldly at him, but from what Jareth had seen of his ‘intelligence’, it was probably a glare for the benefit of Sarah, and not out of any actual knowledge of what was going on.

Jareth took advantage of the silence to press on with their conference; he was working hard to bring back his business state of mind, which could only be brought about in the persuasion of himself that he certainly would perfect his revenge later. On his… his cousin. But for now, the thought of his perfect Sarah (with whom he was very, _very _annoyed at the moment) being in danger – that took precedence. 

“Sarah, you may be unaware that the attack last night was directly focused onto yourself,” Jareth said, sitting in his throne and immediately throwing his legs over the side in a relaxed gesture. 

“What?!” came two voices at once. Jareth frowned. His cousin should not be that concerned. 

“Yes,” he continued coldly, “You are an outsider, Sarah, and people know it by now. There are groups, in history and legend, that react… poorly… to mortals. Or, correctly said in this case, former mortals. We do not yet know by which group you were targeted, but we know that they are ruthless, and you are in need of very serious protection.”

Sarah began ranting about Jareth bringing her down to the Underground all while knowing that this could happen. She paced back and forth and screamed and muttered and grew much, much redder in the face.

But both men ignored her fit, and Damien said to Jareth, “But cousin; how do you know that Sarah was the target if you have not yet found the culprit?”

In answer, Jareth only held up a piece of white cloth. On it were three figures, drawn crudely in blotchy red. On close inspection, one could make out the figures; a crawling infant, and strong youth, and an old man leaning on a crutch.

Damien cried out and stepped back, aghast. 

“What?” Sarah paused in her pacing and ranting, “What is it?”

“We found it next to the body of a dead guest; we assume it was drawn from his blood, with his cold fingers, for they too were covered in blood,” said Jareth, without a hint of emotion.

“What is it?!” Sarah demanded again, stepping back as well.

“That, Sarah,” Damien spoke up in a soft, horrified voice, “Is the mark of a mortal. It could say ‘Sarah’ on it, and not be any clearer.”

“Yes, my dear, dear Sarah,” Jareth smiled a thin, wicked smile, “The mark of a mortal.”

And he smiled within, too, at the thought that now at least neither would protest her living strictly within the castle.


	14. Gaining Knowledge [Sarah]

Sarah found her voice.

“Why does this person target mortals?” she asked, stepping closer to Jareth and Damien and the cloth that the Goblin King was still holding.

“When we know that, we will no longer need to know,” said the Goblin King, retracting the cloth just from her reach, which frustrated her and caused her to step closer. 

“So why bother?” fumed Sarah, “What are you doing to stop him? Am I just going to wake up dead one morning and hear you saying, ‘Well, we knew we wouldn’t need to know when we knew and now we don’t.’? I hate you, and you know what I think-“

“Does that mouth only close when it’s against another one? Shut up for a paltry half moment, and you would learn as much as any of us,” interrupted Jareth, who was sitting with a gloved hand over his pale face.

Damien put his hand on Sarah’s arm and took a step towards his cousin. “Now Jareth-“ he started, a frown on his comely face-

“You will address me as ‘Your Majesty’!” Jareth suddenly cried, springing from his throne and stepping up to the pair, and then through their linked arms, pushing them aside. 

This was too much for Sarah. She no longer feared him, no longer was embarrassed by him; only felt anger towards him.

“Tell me what’s happening to me!” she screeched at him, running up and shoving him further backwards. 

“You’re being hunted!” he screamed back at her, throwing his arms wide. 

“Why?!” 

“If I knew, you wouldn’t be in danger!”

“Why don’t you know?!”

“Why don’t you close your mouth for a minute and listen?”

“You never say anything worth listening to!!”

“Oh for the love of-“

“Why don’t you know who’s hunting me?!”

“So help me, Sarah-“

At this point Damien stepped bodily between the pair that was now only inches away from what appeared to be the preamble to a physical fight. “I’d like to know more about this fugitive as well,” he said , and added quickly before Jareth would try and rip out his throat, “Which means, I think, we should quietly listen, Sarah, dear.”

At that, Damien took Sarah’s arm and drew her a little away from her opponent. Sarah wondered how his face could remain so colorless when she could feel the fire only growing in her cheeks. 

Jareth lingered a cold stare on Damien, but then, after a moment, walked back to his throne and sat again. From nowhere he pulled two crystals and, after twirling them thoughtfully on his fingertips for a few seconds, tossed them to the ground. They floated down gracefully, and popped into two hard-backed chairs, much lower than his throne. 

Damien gestured for Sarah to take a seat, a gesture which she responded to by crossing her arms and lifting her eyebrows. Damien only pulled her to the chair furthest from the Goblin King and pushed her shoulders down until she sighed loudly and sat down. “Think about your life for a minute – we will do everything we can to save it, but you have to help,” said Damien softly. 

By this time any emotion Jareth had shown was swept under the rug again, and he was back to his bored, draped self. “Let me know when you’re done conversing. I have some rather important things to discuss, but I live at your call,” he drawled. 

Damien held back the arms of Sarah that were raising up with fists forming. She hated him. How could she ever have-

“Right,” said Jareth, swinging his legs off of the arm of the throne and sitting up straighter. He let his legs sprawl in front of him, and pressed his fingers together in a cage formation.

“Sarah, last night a very powerful piece of magic was performed. Magic I am almost certain was performed by a group of powerful Fae,” he started.

“How do you know it was a group?” Sarah interrupted.

Jareth sighed, but continued, “Sarah, magic such as that would have exhausted _me_. Anyone who could do that singlehandedly would have to be very, very powerful. There are only a few of such blood in this world. But even if one of those would wish to harm you, they would be foolish to conduct such magic themselves – it could easily kill a Fae if overdone.”

“A group is trying to kill me,” Sarah said flatly.

Jareth frowned. “It appears that way.”

“I know you won’t know, but, oh – why?” Damien wrung his hands together. “You think the…” he appeared too apprehensive to continue. 

“The Sanguinary died out long ago,” dismissed the Goblin King with a wave of his gloved hand.

“No, no…” paused Damien, “I mean-“ he seemed unable to continue. Sarah thought she would go mad.

“Ah,” said Jareth, raising his right eyebrow and looking up with almost an amused smile on his pale face, “You think of the Chthonia?”

“Thon… what?” asked Sarah, annoyed that she was left out of most of what the two cousins discussed. 

“Chthonia,” stated Jareth flatly, “A group, puncturing holes at random intervals in the history of the Underground. A trace of the Chthonia hasn’t been heard of since… oh, how long has it been?”

Damien remained quiet with a very upset and sober look on his face.

“How long?” demanded Sarah.

Jareth let his amused smile towards Damien drop, and turned to Sarah with a much more serious look. “The Chthonia haven’t shown up since I took this throne, Sarah.”

“For very good reasons,” Damien said in a voice unlike any Sarah had ever heard from him. He was looking up at Jareth now, with almost a warning in his pale eyes. Almost. At least as close as a warning as one could get in their eyes when they were staring down the Goblin King.

At this look, Jareth frowned. “Only those who sit in this throne know the things you allude to, Damien son of Sabin. They are mysteries you will never come close to understanding by rumors. Or any other method. Keep your thoughts to yourself.”

Sarah almost screamed. This was completely unfair! They’d both lived for years longer than she could even comprehend, and they knew what these sort of things meant. But these things didn’t concern them! They concerned her! 

“Are you –either of you- going to explain what you’re talking about, or am I just going to have my fate handed to me with a smile?”

“Don’t tempt me-“ Jareth started to warn, holding out his hand towards her, but Damien cut him off. “The Chthonia are known in deep legend as powerful mortal-hunting Fae. You most likely have heard of them.”

“I’ve only been down here for ten years,” Sarah rolled her eyes at Damien.

Jareth smiled with amusement. “I suppose you never read the book _Dracula_?”

“I did. I loathed it,” Sarah shuddered.

“Based off of the Chthonia,” he continued nonchalantly, “One of them managed to get through to your world. It happened years before the times described in the mortal novel, of course. Thousands of years before. But legends were kept, and the events described, so far as I know, come very close to being accurate.”

Sarah stared, aghast. “So…” she stuttered, “The Thon… the..”

“Chthonia,” sighed Jareth.

“Yeah, them. They’re --- vampires?” She had always thought herself rather brave, but…

Jareth only laughed. But Damien appeared compassionate and answered her. “No, no, don’t worry. Just the things they do started the legend.”

“I do those things, too.” Jareth drawled in a teasing manner. Sarah couldn’t tell if he was joking or not.

Damien shot him an annoyed look. “I thought we were being serious, cousin.”

“I thought you were calling me ‘Your Majesty’.”

“So are these Thon people hunting me for my blood?” Sarah cried out, trying to keep them on track.

“Chthonia!” cried both Jareth and Damien at once.

“Yes. Them!!” Sarah cried back.

“I believe it was them. It is time, as you have said, cousin – they have not yet stained your reign,” said Damien.

“I will not rule them out – but neither will I be frightened of a legend,” stated Jareth. “I will only look at facts – Sarah, the water last night came from a portal, a stitch between two places of reality. A portal, which we have every reason to believe, that had a mate in the bottom of an ocean. Magic that was almost certainly performed by a group, and was most certainly targeted at you, Sarah. And if they had enough passion to attempt that sort of murder, they will not stop at that, Sarah. You will remain here until I have killed the persons responsible.”

The group was silent for a moment. Jareth, though, stood up after a few minutes had passed and walked to the door. He opened it with a kick of his boot. “Right. Off you go, Damien.”

“What? Why?” Damien stuttered, looking indignant. 

“You spend too much time with the mortal. Do not question your king,” Jareth said, frowning.

“I wish to remain with Sarah.”

“And I wish you to leave. And of the two of us, my wish is law,” with that Jareth tossed a crystal directly at Damien’s chest. Damien bent in two with a cry of pain.

“Stop!!” screeched Sarah, flying at Jareth with white anger. The Goblin King simply caught her by the wrist and held her easily at arm’s length. She’d forgotten how strong he was.

Damien straightened up and looked with anger and hurt at his cousin. “I will come back. Yes?”

He was still resisting. But he was submissive again. And that broke Sarah’s heart.

“Perhaps,” was Jareth’s bored answer.

Damien walked out the door, with only a final, desperate look at Sarah. A mirrored look.

As the door shut, Jareth released his grip on her wrist, which let her rush at him and punch his shoulder with anger. “You never change! I thought you were supposed to be helping me!”

“Am I not?”

“You made him leave! He… he…” Sarah was lost. 

“What?” Jareth stepped much closer to her, with a deadly fire within his mismatched pupils. “He what, Sarah?” His voice was so low. Surely only the two of them could hear it. Maybe even he couldn’t hear it.

“He’s more helpful than you,” she stumbled. “At least he had an idea.”

“You best hope he’s wrong.” And Jareth turned and walked away, towards another door. “Come, we’re going back to your room before you start ‘practicing’ with anyone else.”

“Still angry?” Sarah taunted, following him.

“Sympathetic, for you, might be a good way to describe it,” Jareth grinned, bending down to press his lips against hers. She pushed against him madly, beating at his chest. 

“Don’t go there. Again. Ever,” she stuttered, “Never. I didn’t want to go there the first time, but the first time is-the first time is the last time. Ever.”

Jareth again reverted to his stoic self. “You’re hilarious,” he said, but it came without any emotion.

They walked on into the halls without any more conversation. And they reached her room.

“Wait,” she called back, just before he left.

He half turned, waiting for her to speak. He was placing her back into a submissive spot. She could tell, but she was too concerned to even think of a way out.

“These.. Chthonia…”

“What?” Jareth cut in. Impatient.

“What are they after? In mortals, I mean.”

Jareth stood only a second longer. A short, short pause.

“The blood of mortals,” he said, words falling as blocks of marble. And then he walked off.


End file.
